Serenada Schizophrana
by MadameJelly
Summary: Johnny believed he was invincible, a superior killer, and untouchable. However, he unknowingly captures a vampire, locking him away in his basement. This time he may have bit off more than he can chew as things turn into an eerie game of cat and mouse.


**Rated M for:** profanity, gore, violence (all of which seem essential with Johnny)**  
Main genres: **Horror and Humor**  
Format: **Originally this was a multi-chapter piece. I decided, however, that due to some sort sections and flow that a one-shot (though a tad long) would be most suitable. The days blend into each other, as this shall hopefully illustrate. There are ten sections, which will be indicated clearly.**  
Further details**: I really did have fun with this. Despite the OC, it is not meant to be a Mary Sue (well, it's a guy) in any sense of the word. I do hope you grow to hate him (the OC). There will be no yaoi/slash/whatever, as tempting as that may be. Johnny isn't one for romance, as you may know. All in all, it's a fun little war between Nny and our vampire after he captures him and imprisons him in the basement. Mostly sadistic humor with some frequent bloodshed. In other words, a normal day with Nny. Oh, and lots of death. May the games begin.  
**One last thing:** Not a songfic by any means, but certain pieces will be mentioned. They will be listed at the beginning of parts in parenthesis if the reader chooses to listen while reading.

**Finally:** Minor corrections made concerning song titles and composer names.

I own nothing of JTHM.

* * *

**ONE**  
_Nabbed_

* * *

He was bored. Incredibly, undeniably, and completely bored. He stood there at the cash register with his head propped up on his arm, leaning on the counter. He started crushing a biscotti absent mindedly. Some of his nearly-black, dark red hair hung limply in his face.

_Clickclickclick…clickclick…click…._

They were here every night at the Coffee Corner, those two. Each was huddled in front of their own laptop, probably soaking in some kind of radiation from the screen. He had the late shift as well as the damn, this is early shift. All in the nighttime hours. He stared at them with a mild loathing (as if they would notice). Exhibit A: the middle-aged office-minded husband. You couldn't really tack the name of father to him, seeing as though he nearly lived in the Coffee Corner. Always on his laptop, working away at expense reports, at spread sheets, pouring expresso after expresso down his gullet. One could nearly watch as his hairline receded whilst he worked around to clock to earn money to support the family he barely saw. Imbecile.

_…clickclick…._

Then there was Exhibit B: the tragically misunderstood adolescent. This one's hair was a marvel, too. It changed from one color to the next, sometimes from day to day. Nothing on his lithe frame wasn't scene. He sniffled from time to time, laughed at nonsense, then left at 11:30 PM. Probably done with his MySpace or angsty poetry. So eventually he was only left with one pitter patter of laptop keys. It was about that time now, 1:15 AM. They wouldn't have any more customers until maybe five or six, save the occasional college kid after a long bout of procrastination.

He had nothing to do. Well, except make yet another triple-shot expresso. They should just save themselves the time and effort by connecting him directly to the expresso machine.

If only something_ interesting_ would happen.

_**RINGRING! SLAM!**_

His head fell on the table. He groaned slightly, straightening up. Well, it was good to have a customer, right? He rubbed an eye, booting up the register.

"Hm, welcome to the Coffee Corner. Is there anything I can get you?" he mumbled, still partially in his bored daze. He hadn't really even looked to whoever stood in front of him.

A man's voice responded with slight hesitance. "Ah, well, the 24/7 is under renovation because of that fire… I dunno what's good here. Do you have any Brainfreezies?"

The cashier blinked, finally looking at the customer. The man was taller than he was, certainly, but he was so incredibly skeletal. He had enormous bags under wide, surveying eyes. A baggy black trench coat covered most of his frame, but he could see a fraction of his shirt. It had a weird looking design, a "Z" followed by a question mark, enclosed in brackets. What the fuck?

"Sir, we don't sell Brainfreezies. This is a coffee shop. It's called Coffee Corner. We just sell coffee and coffee paraphernalia." He tried speaking slowly, hoping that he didn't have some druggie on his hands. Those people didn't need to be strung up on coffee, too.

His dark eyes narrowed, almost as black as coals. The man could've sworn he saw the customer's hand twitch, as if he intended on grabbing something.

The cashier sighed, not too bothered about his gaze. "Well, if you like sweet, icy stuff, you could try our FruitCoolas. I guess that's the next best thing."

There was a long, pregnant pause. The cashier uncomfortably shifted his weight from his left to right foot as he wasn't sure what exactly was on this weirdo's agenda. It wasn't just that he kept on staring, but the sheer creepiness. His hand made a move for his pocket, the cashier's body tensing at once. He dug around for a moment, only to retrieve a wallet. Well, now he felt dumb.

"Hm, I'll take a cherry one. And a chocolate muffin." He eyed it from the display case; it was the last one there.

The cashier punched a few buttons on the register. "That's $4.57, please."

The man's eyebrow just twitched a little. He threw a five onto the counter, stuffing his wallet back into his pocket. He looked around apprehensively.

"Hey," the cashier said suddenly, making the guy's change. "What does that design on your shirt mean? It's a little wacky-looking."

It was as if he'd called the guy's mother a whore. His fists balled up, trembling slightly. His dark eyes widened, nearly filled with shock. Too bad it wasn't, though; fury reigned supreme.

"What…did you say?" He could hear the floodgates crumble.

"Uh…" Why the hell not? He'd push his luck. "I said it was wacky. I don't know what it means, really."

Faster than he could say the ingredients of a Big Mac, the dark customer leaped onto the countertop. He grabbed the cashier's uniform shirt in a death grip with his twiggy fingers. He could feel his hot breath on his face, the customer's eyes crazed.

"YOU'RE JUST ANOTHER ONE OF THOSE FUCKERS WHO THINK THEY'RE COOL JUST TO WORK IN A SHITTY COFFEE SHOP! IN ORDER TO KEEP YOUR OWN FRAGILE SENSE OF ACCOMPLISHMENT, YOU DECIDE TO DEGRADE OTHERS, HUH? WELL, I'VE GONE ALL DAY PRETTY WELL UNTIL I CAME IN HERE! NOT ONLY DO YOU NOT HAVE ANY FUCKING BRAINFREEZIES, BUT YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY TO CALL MY SHIRT _**WACKY**__?_ ARE YOU ENJOYING THE SICK PLEASURE YOU GET OUT OF THIS? A DAY DOESN'T GO BY WHEN I'M NOT JUDGED BY HOW I LOOK, AND YOU SUCCESSFULLY KEPT THAT TREND RUNNING STRONG. IT'S BECAUSE I'M DIFFERENT FROM YOU, ISN'T IT? GODDAMNIT, ANSWER ME!"

The cashier barely had any time to even formulate a logical thought in his head before he was thrown to the ground. The solid tile flooring knocked him out cold when the back of his head made contact.

…**zZzZzZzZz…**

Ow. Discomfort. Yes, wherever he was, it wasn't on a plush bed. It was a little chilly and his wrists and ankles felt like hell. There were some noises around him, he knew, but they seemed pretty subdued. As consciousness flooded back, he could pick out various moans and whimpers. Ugh, and it smelled awful. Excrement, blood, infection, putridity. He frowned, trying to force his eyes to open. Now he noticed his splitting headache. Joy of joys.

Anyway, he was still too busy adjusting to really contemplate where exactly he _was_. It was pretty dark, but that didn't bother him too much. For the most part he was alone, save two others. They didn't seem the liveliest duo. One was having the flesh of his face eaten by scrawny rats in a cage. His blood poured out of their prison and onto the floor, some landing in a bucket. The back of his throat stung and his stomach pained him. The other person, a blonde college student, was perhaps unluckily awake as well. She was fastened to some sort of chair but didn't have any sort of gag. Her face was stained with eyeliner, eyes darting about madly in the dark. She was the one whimpering. He must've been the moaner, then.

_Thumpthumpthumpthumpthump._

Boots were dashing down wooden stairs. A door burst open to his right and a man darted inside. Before he could tug the chain of the light in the center of the ceiling, the cashier quickly closed his eyes and feigned sleep. He did steal a peek, however, and couldn't say he was surprised. There, clad in knee-high black boots and a whipping black trench coat was the psycho who had asked him for a Brainfreezy at one in the morning. Huh.

"Hello, my dear. A lovely morning, isn't it?"

So he had gone to the girl after all. All the better for him. He wanted to know what he was up against, exactly.

"I-I really want to go ho-home please…" she pleaded softly. Hm, she sounded as if she was trembling.

"But the day's only begun! I had so much planned! Don't you want to know about all the _fun_ we're going to have?"

She didn't say anything about this.

"Well, you know first I thought we'd do your nails, maybe. They're such a nice shade of coral, but we can do better!" He picked up something off of a metal table, and the items that were on it clanged a little. "But, we must start from scratch."

It was certainly the most macabre make-over he'd ever listened to. First, he must've used something to tear off all of her finger nails. He didn't like her hairstyle (he mentioned that she hadn't liked his), so he promptly tore her blond tresses from her scalp. Finally, to prove that her beauty was only but skin deep, he peeled off her face. He thought his work rather splendid, but her piercing screams only made the cashier's headache morph into a migraine. He didn't know who to be more pissed with. The girl for her fucking screaming, or the customer for putting him here and inducing those screams. Tough call.

The guy seemed to get annoyed pretty fast as well.

"IF YOU HADN'T BEEN SO INCONSIDERATE TO OTHERS, YOU NEVER WOULD HAVE HAD TO COME HERE! ALL YOU CARE ABOUT IS YOURSELF AND YOU WALK ON OTHERS DAY IN AND DAY OUT! I SPECIFICALLY ASKED FOR THREE FUCKING TACOS, AND YOU GAVE ME TWO! I WENT UP TO YOU AND I POLITELY ASKED FOR MY OTHER TACO AND WHAT DID YOU SAY TO ME? 'Whatever, I DON'T CARE! GET LOST, _**FREAK!**_' WELL, HOW ABOUT _YOU _GET LOST?"

He felt something warm splatter onto his face soon after. He had to marvel at it, really. That girl had been a good fifteen feet away from him or so. Hell, maybe over twenty.

It didn't take long before there wasn't any more screaming from the college girl. He was tempted to see the man's handiwork, but he decided against it. He wouldn't display consciousness until this guy, whoever he was, wanted him to be awake. Sure enough, he was prodded with the handle of something, probably a knife.

"Hey, you. Coffee guy. Rise and shine." He pushed it into the cashier's stomach forcefully again.

He let out some false waking-up groans. Well, they were really his migraine moans. Damn, he was hungry. He squinted, trying to adjust his eyes to the now present light. "Ugh… Where am I…?"

"Indulge me," the man began, "on how you were able to lose all of that blood in the Coffee Shop, on the way here, as well as all around you and still live? What gives?" He put a hand on his chin in thought, smearing some of the blood spatter.

The cashier blinked. He looked down to find that there was quite a puddle around his own feet, most of it congealed. No wonder he felt like shit. He just shrugged in response, though.

"Hmph." The maniac paced back and forth. "What's your name, anyhow?"

"Well…Nicholas. Or Nick. Whatever. Doesn't matter to me." Now he wanted to scratch his nose. It wasn't going to end, was it?

A grin broke about the man's face, knife temporarily forgotten. Fascinating. "Nice to meet you, Nick! My name is Johnny C., but you may call me Nny!"

"Gotcha. Er, the pleasure's all mine?" Figuring him out was going to be like completing a 2,000 piece puzzle of white kittens in the snow.

Johnny, or rather Nny, then sat down on the floor in front of him. He was cross-legged, just barely missing the jellylike puddle of Nicholas's blood. He set down the knife beside him on the grimy floor, staring up at his captive.

"Really, I wanted to be angry with you," Nny admitted. "However, never have I seen someone bleed _so fucking much!_ And you're still kicking!" He was looking at Nicholas in sheer wonder.

"Yeah, but I'm not feeling so hot."

Nny tilted his head to the side. "Really?"

Suddenly, Nicholas caught sight of Nny's shirt again. He hadn't made it his priority to keep up on the guy's fashions, so it took him until this point. A mischievous smile graced his lips. Sure, he was most certainly immobile, but he felt like pushing Nny's buttons some more. It wasn't as if he'd kill him, anyway. He seemed too interested in his seemingly never-ending supply of blood.

"Oh, you're wearing that _wacky_ shirt again, huh? I still can't figure that thing out."

To the dismay of Nicholas, Nny had decided to spare him the small talk and went straight to the point. He gasped, the bloody knife that had torn the girl to shreds now imbedded in his clavicle. Missed his throat, yeah, but Christ, it _hurt_. He'd been not taking care of himself recently, and now he paid the price. As quickly as he'd been stabbed, Nny fiercely pulled it out. Nicholas repressed a hiss of heightened agony, only grimacing.

_Thumpthumthumpthumpthump._

Alas, he was alone once more. Johnny fled up the stairs, leaving him with two rotting corpses. How sweet.

* * *

**TWO**  
_Snacks_

* * *

He did end up bleeding for quite some time after Johnny departed. Horrible weakness was constricting his body. He could barely contain his hunger. Oh, his mouth was rather dry, too. So, now Nicholas supposed he was playing the waiting game. Yep. Johnny would surely come down before too long, he assured himself. At the worst, a day? He'd marveled at all of Nicholas's blood only moments ago and he had surely not lost interest. Maybe dear Nny would bring him a nice snack. He laughed feebly at himself.

Seeing as though there was nothing better to do, Nicholas began watching the two fascinating people with whom he had the opportunity of sharing the room. He never really wore a watch and there definitely wasn't a clock anywhere to be seen, so he began gauging his time with their decomposition. People are rather warm when alive. When dead they generally lose this heat. So, it began getting just slightly warmer in the room as the two emitted their heat. Nicholas sighed. He'd been in there for a while. The morning rush had long passed at his job, and he would currently be at home, all cozy and asleep.

How long would he stay at Johnny's, he wondered? Did he feel all that intimidated towards the lanky man? Currently, yes. Very much so. But in all honesty, he would barely be able to walk, had he the opportunity. He looked to the shackles on his wrists and ankles, curious to see if he could pull a hand through. No such luck. Johnny had made the things goddamned _tight_. He pondered as to how he'd manage to free himself eventually, as his hands were immobile…

A door slammed open. Nicholas looked to the exit and listened very carefully. All for naught, though. Something large and heavy made new thudding noises as it pummeled down the wooden stairs._ THUMP…THUMPTHUMP….THUMP…_ He turned his head to look to the door, which had shuddered from a large weight ramming into it. Some blood crept out from under the door. Ah, it seemed he'd be getting company again.

Johnny came down the stairs after the person he had tossed down a flight or three. The groaned in pain, clearly having avoided snapping their neck. When the door opened again, the victim simply fell into the doorway. The skeletal man grasped the bleeder's wrist, dragging him into the middle of the room. Nicholas was being ignored for the time being, it seemed. Some blood smeared behind the two, left by the agonized man.

"Well, I was planning on lecturing you," Johnny began. "However, we have a slight problem. This took a little longer than I had expected, and I'm hungry now. I'll be right back after I get my sandwich."

He turned on his heel, fully prepared to bound up the stairs. Johnny's eyes flashed to Nicholas, however. Funny, it was if he'd forgotten he was even there. He put a hand to the wall, dumbfounded.

"FUCK, you don't stop bleeding, do you?"

Nicholas shrugged. "Guess not."

Johnny walked over, collecting the buckets that had been placed around him. Why hadn't he noticed those things? Anyway, they were pretty much all filled and overflowing. He was struggling to pick two up at once without spilling any. Nicholas had to admit, the volume of blood that had exited his body had become, you know, just a little alarming. Hell, it even freaked out a murderer. He needed to do something about this, and probably very soon.

"Hey, what are you doing with my blood?" It sounded stupid.

Johnny looked at him a bit strangely. "I need it for the wall."

Blink. "What wall? And why does it need blood?" His vision was starting to get a little fuzzy. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the feeling. The action was ignored.

His eyes scanned the room carefully, pupils perhaps a little larger than they normally were. "There's a wall in the house, with some kind of monster behind it… If I don't paint it with blood, then…I dunno. It gets restless. It might escape if I don't."

Nicholas drew another breath to speak, but the paranoid man had exited the room, slamming the door behind him. He sighed; he was going to warn him. Oh well. A groan caught his attention, snapping him from his musing. The newcomer twitched on the ground, a large, bloody gash on the back of his head. Lovely.

**…zZzZzZz…**

Johnny went to work at once. The blood he'd gotten from…uh…the guy from the coffee place was a slightly strange. It seemed as though it was darker than what he had on the wall, but it spread very nicely. How lucky for him, too, how much there was! He hummed to himself, draining the first bucket. Three more to go.

He wondered what he would do with his excellent blood source. He didn't want to forgive his rude behavior, yes… Eh. He'd think about it later.

Nail Bunny floated over to his side. "You seem chipper today, Johnny."

He grinned a bit. "Yes, yes. This particularly rude man has supplied me with more blood than I could ever imagine!" He went up on his tippy-toes to reach a corner.

"That seems a little strange."

Johnny shrugged. "Whatever. The funny thing is, he's not really afraid. Kind of like that one guy…uh…Edwin or something. He just stands in there with two corpses, all nonchalant, as if he's flipping through television channels!"

"This sounds like something worth investigating."

His stomach rumbled. "I need some Spaghetti-O's."

**…zZzZzZz…**

Stupid restraints. The guy in front of him was beginning to hack up blood. He hadn't noticed anything around him yet, especially not the deceased. Nicholas sighed. If he was going to get something to eat, it was now. He wriggled his hands again, trying to contort them to slip out. No such luck. He had a lock pick in his hair, but he couldn't very well reach it. Well, this was going to be painful.

Slowly but surely he began to break most every major bone in his left hand. Nicholas gritted his teeth. Ugh, one was about to break the skin! This wouldn't even be the worst part, though. Once he did free an almost completely useless hand, he'd have to use it to dig out his pick them unlock the restraint on his right hand and go from there. Fuckfuckfuck. He needed to store that thing in a more accessible place on his person. Crunches and cracking sounded for a couple of minutes. His victory was a freed, crippled hand. At least he still had his face, he guessed.

He wanted to scream as pain seared through his being when he clumsily stuck the pick in his other hand restraint. He must've bit the fleshy part of his mouth, as he tasted something coppery. Great, he was losing more blood. This was getting increasingly annoying. Smooth sailing followed, however, when he set to get his feet loose. Nicholas had a triumphant grin. But, time was of the essence!

He licked his lips looking at the man curled on the horrendously filthy floor. Now that he had a better look, it seemed as though he'd landed a couple of nasty stab wounds as well. It reminded Nicholas of his own, and goddamn, it _throbbed_. But so did his hand. And his head. Ow.

Those things were trivial now, though. He then bent down to the writhing victim of Nny, sinking his teeth into the translucent, thin flesh. He was feeling better already.

**…zZzZzZz…**

_Thumpthumpthumpthumpthump..._

Nicholas looked around wildly and paled. He only had seconds until he wouldn't be quite so alone anymore. He had already locked his restraints once more, wishing to keep the illusion for the disturbed individual who kept him in the basement.

He had taken a small little compact mirror from the rotting college girl. It was sickeningly sparkly. Before this new disturbance, he'd noticed within it that his healthy glow began to return. His wounds started to heal over with good haste and his eyes were brighter, more alert. Well, his hair was still a little stringy and limp. Oh well. He'd fix that later. His migraine had cleared miraculously and he found his hands to be in ship-shape. He wiggled them happily.

He flinched at the icy-cold of the restrains on his bare wrists. All he had on was a stupid Coffee Corner brown polo and some black slacks. It was humiliating. At least he was allowed some goddamned Converse. He slipped his lock pick necklace down his shirt. Mere seconds later the door whooshed open once more.

Johnny looked to the man on the ground first and sighed. "I was hoping I'd get to talk with you about our encounter today. You're pretty useless now." He leaned down and eyed the corpse. "Hmph."

Nicholas quietly watched. Johnny then sat down in front of him again, sticking a rusty-looking spoon into a can of Spaghetti-O's. Or was it a spork? Moreover, was that even rust? In the grand scheme of things, it didn't matter much. He stuck a large spoonful into his mouth and chewed.

"Um…hello." Nicholas said. Awkward silence. _Chew, chew, chew._

"How are you_ not_ dead?" he asked, the utmost seriousness on his face. "I can't for the life of me figure it out."

Shrug.

"Moreover," Johnny said, chomping on some more pasta, "why is he completely drained of blood? You know, that guy behind me."

"I dunno. I was asleep. I woke up, he was dead."

"Hmm…" The spoon made scraping noises around the grooved inside of the can. "What's your name again?"

His nose itched again. Of course. "Nicholas, Nick, whatever. It doesn't matter much to me." He started twitching and scrunching his nose, trying to alleviate the itchy feeling.

"Well, _Nick,_ you seemed to have **finally** stopped bleeding. Congratulations." Johnny sucked some remaining pasta sauce off of his spoon. "Do you miss the outside?"

"What time is it?" He lost track after the bodies lost all of their heat.

Johnny contemplated for a second. "Six-ish? PM."

"Oh, well, that's nice to know. But no, not really. Nice company down here. Very good accommodations. I thought you had planned on torturing me, maybe, like those two. What gives?"

His elbows were on his knees, head in his hands. The Spaghetti-O's were off to the side. "I planned to, yes. However, you're really strange. Most people beg, or cry, or scream at this point. You're pretty sociable."

"I try."

Johnny lunged at him, pressing a knife to Nicholas's pale flesh. "YOU ARROGANT PRICK! WHY DON'T YOU GIVE ME ANY ANSWERS?" He felt the blade sink in, but only slightly. It would look like an extensive paper cut, he assumed. If Johnny were to feel more displeased he probably wouldn't be so lucky.

Sniff. "Your breath smells like Spaghetti-O's." Nicholas grinned, mocking the homicidal stick figure.

Johnny stared in shock. His eyes were like saucers.

His frame was shaking.

And then he burst into loud, shrill laughter.

Well, that wasn't weird at all.

* * *

**THREE**  
_Fireworks_

* * *

Johnny stepped out into the night. Fresh, clean air filled his lungs. It felt quite nice. He didn't need to hunt down any wrong-doers tonight, oh no. That strange person…Nick, was it?...practically had give him a week or two's worth of paint. No, this was just a leisurely stroll around the neighborhood. His headphones were snug on his head, pouring a strong Beethoven symphony into his ears.

No one was out and about besides him, though. Was there some kind of holiday? He scratched his chin in thought. It was summer, the beginning of July. He hated the sweltering heat, but the nights were…tolerable. Was it the fourth, maybe? It didn't matter much.

But what did matter was that Nick-person's horribly _smug_ attitude. He frowned in displeasure. Did he think it was all just a game for his amusement? It was starting to bother him. Ugh, and that total defiance! Maybe when he returned home, he'd lecture him for a while. Well, not too much. Maybe he'd be a viable blood source for a while… Even though he was hopelessly stupid.

He looked to the 24/7 in sadness. Most of the structure was still intact, but it was completely charred and feeble. Where was he supposed to get Brainfreezies? The fruity drink thing from the Coffee Corner had been…bearable, but it left him with a lingering sense of longing and disappointment. There were certainly other stores that sold them, but not at the odd hours he had his cravings. He still had the muffin in his pocket, so he started nibbling on it. Mmm.

There was some kind of distressed crying from his left, he now noticed. His boots now moved silently across the sidewalk, eyes wide and wary. It didn't sound adult, that was for certain. However, that didn't mean the danger level dropped at all. After all, with what had nearly happened to Squee in that mall…

He finally found the source behind a new restaurant which had taken the place of the Taco Hell, due to…a previous incident. He smiled at the thought. In any case, the burger stand had some empty trash cans sitting in the back. The place hadn't even opened yet, which meant they were currently goo-free. Carefully, with one hand he peered inside, the other hand moving to a blade in his backpack.

A baby? Someone left a fucking baby in the trash can? Well, that did nothing for his faith in humanity, or lack thereof. He scrunched his nose at the smell of baby poo, but brought the thing out nevertheless. It cooed at him, oblivious as to who was holding it. It had some of those huge brown eyes, which didn't help very much. Johnny sighed; if there was one thing he couldn't get angry at, it was innocent, little, chubby babies. They weren't corrupted by society…yet, anyway.

"Well, little…fella? Hell if I know, but we're going to find you some place better to stay," he stated. It didn't take him too long before he found an open car window near a pizza place. The baby had babbled to him the entire five minutes or however long it was and attempted to eat his hair. He patted the fat baby on the head and went on his way.

Huh. He was in the park now, it seemed. Sadly, this was where all of the people of town had congregated. Johnny frowned. Everyone was eating greasy meaty foods and sitting in collapsible lawn chairs. And talking very, very loudly. He could barely hear the string section, so he twiddled with his CD player and eventually had the volume up at full blast. No such luck, though. A dog barked near-by. He nearly jumped.

Before he could turn tail and leave the horrible spectacle, the damned celebration had started already. A large, whizzing red one went up, followed by one of those massive flowers that practically sent out a shock wave equal to that of an earthquake. He balled his fists in unbridled fury. He had to get out of there. He'd gone on sprees before, doing away with entire restaurants, but this… It was practically the whole fucking city!

He turned around to go back the way he came. Johnny's teeth clenched tightly. The whole chaotic scene did nothing to calm him down. It was too much humanity, too much sound, too much…shit, it was too much of everything! So, he didn't even hesitate when some unfortunate slob spilled his cup of beer on his shoes.

**…zZzZzZz…**

Nicholas was slowly, but surely, getting mind-numbingly bored. He yawned. That Nny person had left an hour ago and all he had to do to keep himself occupied was stare at bodies decomposing or at the horribly stained wall in front of him. He kind of loathed the fact that there were no windows. He supposed, though, that he wasn't in one of the lowest basement areas this guy had. He could hear his captor walking around on the main floor whenever he was home, after all. As for knowing there were more floors…he could hear the people below. Not much, though. He supposed they did tire after a while.

He hoped that Nny wouldn't be back for quite some time, because the boredom was sure to kill him soon. And he was getting bruises from those dumb restraints. He bent his head down to his chest, fishing out his lock pick from his necklace with the use of his tongue and teeth. Jerking his head, he managed to toss it over to his right hand, thus allowing him to start freeing himself. Hurrah!

He rubbed his aching limbs while stepping outside of the room for the first time. Nicholas did wonder how big the place was, exactly. It didn't hurt to know where the house was, either. If it was even a house, he thought. The door creaked painfully, causing him to cringe. There was another door directly opposite of him, cracked open just slightly. A horrid stench came forth from it, but he pressed on. His curiosity was sure to kill him eventually. Well, now that he thought of it…probably in the very near future.

To put it mildly…he was surprised at what he saw. He wasn't a stranger to death and stuff, but Jesus. A couple of torsos were lying about the ground, still with heads connected. That was about all they had, though. The whole floor had a sticky layer of mostly-dried blood and the walls… The walls basically were where those limbs had ended up. He assumed the process occurred while all of the people were completely conscious. There were individual fingers nailed up, then the hands, toes, feet, arms, and legs. He wondered how long one would survive meanwhile? Perhaps by the time he got to one of the arms, or maybe even the legs. Oh, he'd missed the tongues. Not as many of those. He briefly thought of the Black Knight from a Monty Python film and chuckled to himself. Well, he was done with this. Maybe another room would have some live ones. Or…he'd go upstairs.

He tapped his chin. Upstairs sounded good. He remembered again that assessing his location was indeed important. After all, what if Nny was a traveler from…Wyoming? Not only would he be far away from his place, but he'd be in fucking Wyoming. That in itself would suck. He then sauntered up the stairs into Nny's ground level.

It was much cleaner than the downstairs, but not really up to the standards of Martha Stewart or anything. There was a really old looking couch, an ancient TV with bunny ears, a dusty kitchen that barely would fit two people, and maybe a bedroom and bathroom behind two doors. Peering up, he saw the entrance to the attic, which was probably practically nonexistent. Nicholas walked over to a lit-up writing desk only to see an obscure comic about some noodle person. He read some of the main character's nonsense before going to inspect the kitchen's contents.

He came up pretty empty-handed. While many weapons were strewn around the house, the majority was indeed in the kitchen. As for food, he found a couple can of Spaghetti-O's…some weenies…two fudge pops…a head of lettuce…and a small container of milk. Christ, no wonder he was a stick! They were all barely touched. The milk was soon to expire.

Now he journeyed off to the bedroom. Now there was a window he could actually _see_ out of! The couple in the main room were completely boarded up. The bed was neatly made. Too neatly made. All in all, the room was pretty bare, save the walls. Tons of amazing, dark paintings covered almost every possible inch. He almost gaped at the sight; they were wonderful. He got close to one of the nighttime sky, checking the signature and date. It was Johnny, all right, but it was signed several years ago. In fact, most of them were pretty old. He frowned. Had Nny just stopped painting?

Nicholas went to the window he'd noticed by the bed. He chose not to disturb the sheets on the bed, settling for crossing his arms and staring out. It was beautiful, really. He sighed. Soon, though, a great red light went up in the distance. He narrowed his eyes only to see a massive shot go off, then explode into a huge burst of sparkly light that sent off a concussion for a good mile or more. He blinked dumbly. It was already the Fourth of July? He remained there, though, transfixed on the sight.

Suddenly his blood ran cold. He heard something being dragged on concrete, footsteps, and an occasional grunt. Nicholas was soon to be not alone. He made a mad dash for the downstairs and nearly fell while bolting into "his room." The restraints were on in seconds. He breathed heavily.

It wasn't but two minutes until Johnny entered the room. He pushed the college girl out of the way to make room for someone new. It was a pretty big guy with a huge beer gut. His hair was mostly gone and drool dribbled from his mouth. He was breathing, though. Johnny grimaced, brushing himself off and inspecting a little smear of drool he'd gotten on one arm.

"You smell like fireworks," Nicholas said suddenly.

Johnny only looked to him strangely, focusing on securing the sleeping man to another wall, very much like how he did with Nicholas. It was comical, seeing a beanpole of a man like Johnny hoist up the body of the whale-like man. He tried to stifle a giggle, but failed.

Nny turned around at once and flashed him a look of pure contempt. He apparently was not fond of being laughed at. Stalking over to Nicholas, he pulled out one of his jagged knives. He tried very hard to stop giggling, pressing his lips together and all. Johnny was only getting angrier by the second.

"WHAT IS IT WITH YOU, HUH?" He jutted the tip of the knife dangerously close to Nicholas's face. "YOU REALLY ENJOY MY MISFORTUNE, DON'T YOU? WHAT IF YOU HAD MY KNIFE IN YOUR SMUG FACE? MISFORTUNE WOULDN'T BE SO FUN THEN, WOULD IT? STOP THAT GODDAMNED LAUGHING!"

Johnny's screeching was grating. He calmed himself down, finally, and managed to speak again. "No, I guess that wouldn't be fun. Is today the Fourth of July?"

Johnny threw up his arm, preparing himself to sink the metal down in whatever flesh that was in the way upon descent. Luckily for Nicholas, however, the other man who was only partially restrained was making waking-up noises. Johnny's attention was quickly diverted as he went over to finish locking up the guy's legs.

Nicholas grinned to himself. He decided that he was going to have some fun tonight. Nny was too distracted with the newcomer to notice.

"Ah, greetings! How was your rest? We met during the fireworks display, do you remember? Well, I thought that perhaps I could put on an even _better_ show for you…"

* * *

**FOUR**  
_Symphony No. 5_

* * *

**_(Symphony No. 5: Allegro con brio, Beethoven)_**

One thing was for certain: he certainly wasn't dreadfully bored anymore. Johnny did seem to enjoy himself whilst chatting with the terrified man. Then came the sobbing, the pleas, the apologies. That in itself was sickening. In fact, Johnny didn't stop talking as he started going about his business. He took out a very tiny blade, in fact, and began making small incisions willy-nilly. The man was robbed of his shirt, giving him better access to flesh. Even though none of the cuts had been deep, they all bled. Especially those that had been created when the man had tried to trash around, which had resulted in deeper cuts. Wiping the blade off on the captive's pants, he stepped out of the room.

"Hmm…" Nicholas said aloud. "You know, he'll probably be back soon."

The other man paled. "Wh-what?" He was in hysterics.

"Yep. He left the door wide open, you see. What are you in for?"

"I…I…" he stammered, "I just…spilled something on him! It was an accident!"

Nicholas raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. You're really unlucky, though."

The other man laughed bitterly. "No shit. What was your first clue? How are you so…healthy looking, anyway? Didn't you piss him off, too?"

Nicholas yawned a little. "So, I have three questions to tackle. All right. Firstly, if he doesn't kill you fairly quickly, you'll more than likely be subjected to horribly slow and painful torture, and then you'll get killed. Sucks for you. I did piss him off, I guess. However, I'm having fun here and it's throwing him off a little."

He didn't have anything to say back this time. Nicholas chuckled.

"He's coming back down," Nicholas said, relaxed. The middle-aged man looked as though he was about to have a heart attack.

The emaciated figure entered the room once more with an enormous white sack over one of his shoulders. Nicholas tilted his head to read it: sodium chloride, 15 lbs. A wry smile came upon his face.

"Jesus Christ, what are you going to do with that?" the man questioned, voice cracking.

"Your wounds are going to be treated with this. It will be…most memorable."

Now the screams were to truly begin. Nicholas winced, not appreciating the volume too much. He never cared for drawing these things out too much for these very reasons. Each little cut was stuffed with a good amount of salt, then pinched shut. It took a bit longer than it had for the creation of the incisions. Once finished with his work, Johnny looked over the writhing individual in thought.

He bent down to pick back up his small incision knife. Quickly and deftly he sliced off the man's eyelids and threw them to the side. The lovely grand finale was a nice big handful of salt to the unprotected and bloodied eyes. Johnny wiped his hands off onto the clean shirt that the man had worn earlier.

And now his attention was on Nicholas, causing him to feel a little uneasy now. He doubted there could be any distractions to save him. He sighed.

"So, what else do you have planned? This thing makes me uncomfortable, by the way." He tried to move his wrists around a little. "Did you enjoy your muffin?"

He was wiping off his knife now. "It was okay. I think there was some mocha flavor or whatever."

"Did the other guy in the shop get away?"Nicholas asked. He was fairly certain that he knew what the answer would be.

"Oh. Him?" Johnny turned and gestured to the person attached to the rat cage. "Nope."

He was quite prepared to make some kind of smartass comment. Nicholas could feel it bubble up and reach his lips, in fact. Unfortunately, the serial killer's knife beat him to the punch, landing firmly in his left bicep. He clenched his teeth and shuddered, pain flashing through his body. The dirty little bastard. He felt the knife tug downward through his flesh just slightly, as if he were teasing him.

Johnny was quite in control of his emotions right now, he noticed. There was a glint of some kind of strong emotion very much like rage in his eyes, but they were for the most part very dark and like pits.

"You don't seem a stranger to pain," he stated plainly. "I'm having a somewhat hard time figuring you out. What's your deal?"

Nicholas laughed, but shuddered from the pain again. "Ah, well I can't say that I'm your average victim."

"I'm debating something right now," Johnny stated, probably having ignored the comment. "Should I get what I can from you now? Or, I can keep you alive for a little while longer. You're getting on my nerves, though." He twisted the knife around absent-mindedly. Some blood splattered onto his clothes as if he'd struck oil.

"Glad to be of service," he hissed through his clenched teeth. "That really fucking hurts. Could you maybe take that out, pretty please?"He noticed briefly that the other man still issued pitiful screams and moans.

Johnny was humming now, playing with his knife in the garish wound. For a moment it looked like he hadn't heard again, but he drew the knife out. Nicholas sighed. But it was only to be stabbed into his hip. Joy.

"FUUUUUCK!" he moaned, the sharp pain searing through his body again. He panted for a minute, trying to get his bearings back.

Johnny was still humming and toying with the deadly instrument that he'd lodged into Nicholas's flesh. He strained to figure out the tune, thoroughly distracted by his wounds.

"Is th-that…Beethoven-n's…Symphony Number Five?" he panted. "Uh…All-allegro con brio?"

The lanky man stared at him incredulously. "Yeah…"

Nicholas forced a smirk, though it pained him. "You have good taste."

"How are you familiar with it?" He drew the knife out again, this time wiping it off on the hideous brown polo.

He licked his lips, which he found now were dry. He was thankful that he could distract Nny once more. "I used to play violin in college and stuff. That was one of the more wicked pieces I got to do."

Johnny stepped back, frowning now. He opened his mouth, then quickly shut it. Then he suddenly turned and dismissed him altogether, going to leave from the room. He stopped only briefly to plunge the knife forcefully into the salt-ridden man's skull; it was left in its "pedestal." He continued humming Symphony Number Five as he closed the door behind him and attended to his other guests downstairs.

* * *

**FIVE**  
_Game Time_

* * *

Ah, the downstairs. It was where his more elaborate devices were stored. Unless the machine could do its job without manual operation, the majority of the people further down could be pretty quiet. Until they heard him, that was. If he had a fucking penny for every time he heard _"I'M SORRY!"_ he'd be raking in money in the millions. Well, it wasn't as if he really cared for that anyway. Wealth was pretty trivial in the grand scheme of things.

He'd retrieved a more jagged blade on his way down. Nny had neglected to clean this one, he now noticed. It had a brownish stain on one side, an old streak of crusted blood. This mattered little now and his fingernails were too short to get any of the grime off on his way to the room he had in mind. It was in Basement Floor 5, that one room that had a kitten sticker on it. He'd didn't ever really remember putting it there, but that didn't matter. Nny had put away his CD player, but he still found that he was humming that one Beethoven symphony to himself. He wiggled his fingers.

Inside was the local high school football team. True, he had recently tackled the task of the same school's cheerleading squad – he giggled to himself at the little joke – but these ruffians were pretty deserving as well. To assure their stay, he had made a point to rid them of their feet. The majority had bled quite profusely, some gaining gangrene. It smelled icky. They let out yelps of surprise or stared in sheer horror. Nny alternated his weight on the front and back of his feet.

"Good evening, Razorbacks!" He grinned widely. "How was your last victory against those Stallions? I was sure you guys would surely _'go for the kill'_, but I guess we can't win all of them, huh? Anywho, do you guys want some brownies? I bet you guys are hungry after such an arduous game."

Total silence…save a weak whimper. Someone might've soiled themselves.

"The thing is, sad to say, we don't _have_ any brownies here at all. Nope. However, let's get to the point of the matter. I walked by as your game was ending, you see. I intended on a trip to the dance club. I then decided that it was best to get out of the way of the enormous mass of adolescent humanity that poured from the stands like something from the floodgates of hell and soon found myself behind the school. That is where I ran into you. I was running, by the way. It felt like a fucking brick wall. So, being the macho and ignorant football players that you are, you started to call me a fag. I could've sworn I was just a magnet for your pigheadedness, 'cause the whole fucking team came on me in no time at all. Oh, you all were having a GRAND time pushing me, jeering, laughing amongst yourselves. I bet it was _great fun_, huh?"

Nny moved his fingers along the flat side of the blade, not looking to them quite so much. He could hear them shift uncomfortably, not daring to make a sound. "Which leads me to wonder why is it that you aren't having any fun here. I'm here, aren't I? Am I not your best form of amusement? After all, how could some skinny little fag do anything to an entire school football team?" He looked up to the ceiling, no longer focused on the knife. He continued his monologue with an outstretched hand to no one in particular.

"But appearances _are_ everything, aren't they? That's why you chose to demean anyone weaker than you, anyone with a lower status on the social ladder. The power is everything, as you and many others like you believe. However, it's also a poison that has seeped deep into your veins. There isn't much you can do about it, really. Now that's the tragic part. So, even if you chose to weasel your way out of this one, as I'm certain you've done with others, you're still just going to be as fucked up as ever. And believe me, people who have been affected by these kinds of poisons can't do anything about it. Hell, even if there was a cure-all, you wouldn't even give it a passing glance. None of your could bear to part with the complete control you have over your peers. A fucking tragedy."

Their eyes were still as wide as ever when Nny returned his gaze to the Razorbacks. "I have one last parting comment, though. Maybe a question, if you'd like to glorify it with a response. What _is_ a Razorback, anyway?"

The quarterback tried to swallow some saliva, but in vain. His voice was fragile and hardly a whisper. "A-a kind of…_hog…thing…_"

Nny frowned at him, probably causing the quarterback to ruin his undies, too. The murderer hadn't focused his gaze on any particular athlete during the whole spiel. Then, as abruptly as that expression and silence had come upon his demeanor, he burst into hysterical laughter.

"DEAR FUCKING GOD! YOU GUYS REALLY ARE FILTHY PIGS! BWAHAHAAA.!"He had to hold his sides, body almost convulsing with his amusement.

"Whew!" he exclaimed, calming himself after that brief moment. "That was enlightening. Now, let's continue where we left off."

Nny began to saunter over to a lineman but was stopped in his tracks. His body tensed at an unfamiliar sound. He turned around swiftly, his dark eyes scanning the area completely. No sign of anybody that shouldn't be there. Strange, he could've sworn he heard a giggle…

Anyway. His knife plunged into the cheek of that lineman. It protruded out from the other side, pouring blood. "YOU SAID THAT MY HAIR LOOKED LIKE IT WAS DONE BY A CIRCUS CLOWN!"

**…zZzZzZz…**

Nny stepped out of his bathroom, thoroughly refreshed. The team was pretty healthy, and they had a LOT of blood. He was covered in gore by the third big oaf of a teenager. But, he was squeaky clean now! He smiled to himself. It was almost time for the commercial where the whole family got a case of explosive diarrhea, after all. A lovely night, no doubt.

He found himself humming again as he went over to his small fridge, pulling out a can of Cherry Fizz-Wizz. It would satiate his craving for Brainfreezies for a while. He popped the can open and plopped onto the couch. Nailbunny floated over beside him.

"How was your evening, Johnny?" the squeaky voice asked.

He swallowed a gulp of the Fizz-Wizz. "Pretty good. I made a lot of new friends; they're talented in football."

"That's-"

Before Nailbunny could finish an odd sound brought Johnny to his feet. His grip on the can had intensified, causing it to crunch slightly in his hand. A tennis ball rolled over to where he was. He stared at it as if it were a mutant hamster with fangs and extensive knowledge on the Franco-Prussian War.

"What was _that?_" Nailbunny asked, floating closer to the green-yellow ball.

"I'm going to go check on something downstairs."

**…****zZzZzZz…**

Nicholas was whistling to himself. He did hear Nny dash down the stairs with complete clarity, but this did not halt his whistling. He was simply going through the different violin solos he remembered from college. Specifically, the Beethoven pieces. Good stuff.

Nny almost blundered in, looking to Nicholas accusingly. He then whistled a more appropriate tune.

"Have you been sneaking around the house?" he asked, pacing closer. He had a can of soda in one hand, a knife in the other. "And STOP THAT FUCKING WHISTLING! It's grating."

He blinked. "Um, does it look like it?" He weakly moved his restraints a little. "I've been here the whole time. What've you been up to? I'm bored."

Nny's soda can was brought up to his lips so he could get another drink of the Fizz-Wizz. "I attended to some more recent guests."

"You know, I have a really burning question. Why exactly do you need so much blood?"

"Hm, yes. That. Gimme a sec." Nny retrieved a stool from the corner. "Further down, there's a room with a wall. I need to coat it with blood frequently, because there's something _behind_ it…" He brought a foot up to rest on one of the pegs of the stool. "The thing feeds on the blood, and if it were to run out, well…that's something I don't intend on testing."

"Huh." Nicholas licked his lips. "And can you put any old blood on there? Like, maybe horse or chicken?"

A side of Johnny's mouth tugged upward, sneering a little. "I tried that with rat blood once. The results were not favorable, to say the least."

"Gotcha. How long do you plan on staying up, anyway? Surely you're getting tired by now."

"Ugh, no. I detest sleep."

He narrowed his eyes in thought, causing Nny to become visibly uncomfortable. He was expecting some ignorant remark, no doubt.

"That's interesting. I'm an insomniac myself, so you're in good company…I think."

* * *

**SIX**  
_Reprise_

* * *

_**(Symphony No. 5: Allegro con brio, Beethoven)**_

Johnny hadn't fully expected to get into full-blown conversation with one of his latest additions. He still was peeved for his previous use of _THAT WORD_…but that was more towards the back of his mind. He was studying the pale man chained to the wall more fully now. His hair was nearly shoulder length, a nearly-black red sort of color. It was incredibly choppy and in multiple pieces. His eyes were a pale green and there were some signs of sleep-deprivation under those eyes. He wasn't deathly skinny, but he was fairly thin with a long, angular face. Hm.

"Well, besides what you do down here, do you have any hobbies to speak of?" the peculiar man asked. Had he said he'd gone to college? Maybe. He didn't speak like the ignoramuses he usually encountered.

Johnny switched the can to his other hand while formulating his response. "Hm, yes. I draw the Happy Noodle Boy comics which are popular among the homeless insane, though… Nevermind. TV, occasionally, I guess."

Nicholas raised an eyebrow. "I came across one of those things once. They're, how should I say…one of a kind? Yes, that's it. As for your hesitation, do divulge further into the topic you skated over. After all, I'm not going anywhere."

He scratched his chin, looking to the ground. "I used to paint a lot. I thought I was pretty good. Though, that was a couple years ago. I think I've had my inspiration and all that hoo-ha sucked out of me. All I can create now are FUCKING STICK FIGURES!" He threw clawed hands up in exasperation.

Nicholas attempted to shrug, but ended up just pulling something and issuing an _"ow."_ He responded after this failed attempt, "I imagine it'll pass before too long. Give it time and don't sweat it."

Johnny hadn't given much clue to whether or not he had actually been listening, as his gaze was elsewhere. He drummed his fingers on an arm."What about you, huh?"

He drew air, about to speak, but stopped himself to think. Johnny narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

"Well, like I said…I've played violin for a while. Got pretty damn good. After taking a break from school and stuff, I was getting ready to audition for some pro ensembles. Though, I guess I should admit that I occasionally have some…violent tendencies as well? Yeah, let's go with that." He was gauging his captor for a response.

Nny inquired simply, "Where were you on June 27th, nighttime?"

Nicholas blinked, not quite expecting such an off-topic statement. "Uh…I think I was at…Donut Palace? I get tired of Coffee Corner coffee, so that may have been why…"

The other's expression didn't seem to waver at the slightest at the news. Before Nicholas even knew it, he was having his mouth forced wide open with a particularly sharp blade. He refrained from moving his body at all to avoid the intrusion, as he probably would've had that knife through his cheek. He wasn't planning on looking like the Joker anytime soon…

"I knew it!" Johnny said to himself. "No wonder you never died from all that blood loss…"

Would it hurt to play the innocent card for very much longer? It was worth a try. He tried talking around the blade, "I dohn know whah you're ahlking abauh."

"I'M NOT STUPID!" he growled. "YOU'RE A FUCKING VAMPIRE! DON'T PLAY DUMB WITH ME!" He pushed the blade farther in. It nicked the left side of the lining in Nicholas's mouth, causing him to taste that familiar coppery liquid. If he went any further…he would not only lose his uvula, but he'd get stuck further to the wall. Ouch.

Johnny's dark eyes burned with deranged blood-lust. He most certainly was tiring of the man chained to the wall, and the captive wasn't so sure if he should push it anymore. He could feel his hot breath on his face. Nicholas, however, remained staring into the maniac's murderous glare. Once he was certain he could find no more satisfaction or maybe answers, Johnny left wordlessly. The steps groaned, but this sound faded, signaling that he was going farther down into the basement. He swallowed the blood that had pooled in his mouth.

That could've gone better.

**…zZzZzZz…**

Exactly two hours and thirty-five minutes later, Johnny had returned to the room in which Nicholas was being kept. The captive's eyes were glazed over in either thought or weariness, taking a moment before he noticed his entrance. Nicholas remained silent, however, observing the new presence in the room. He felt slightly uncomfortable now.

Johnny seemed to be carrying a medium-sized case in one gloved hand. It was had metallic snaps on one side and was rectangular in shape. Had he brought some of his toys with him this time? The thin man set the thing on the ground, going to open it. Two clicks later, he pulled out the contents which he now saw were definitely not malevolent in nature. A deep brown violin and bow.

"I want to see if you aren't entirely filled with lies." Johnny watched him carefully. "You said you played. I'll only free your hands. Nothing more. And it will only be for a while."

Nicholas held back a grin, excited about the proposition. Not only would he not have to free his hands himself, but he got some play-time on the violin? He'd almost regret killing the strange man later. He wouldn't worry about those moral dilemmas now, though. "All righty, then."

The instrument was set down carefully on the floor on a section free of gore. He fumbled through a massive ring of keys before finding the right one and sticking it into the locks of Nicholas's hand restraints. He rubbed his wrists shortly after, sighing in relief. He could've sworn he was almost getting another headache.

Johnny retrieved the violin and bow shortly after, bringing a small container of rosin as well. True, he wouldn't even have thought of the rosin if he'd gone to a music store himself. It was far more simple to simply "borrow" it from one of the violinists from the local production of _Damn Yankees_. No one would miss the second chair violinist, after all…

He began rosining and tuning almost at once, his trained ears listening carefully to the pitch each string produced. Once he was satisfied, his fingers raced across the strings while performing a couple of scales. Now that he was thoroughly warmed up, Nicholas shifted his attention back to Johnny, who was losing his hostile gaze. That was one point for Nick, and…a hell of a lot more points with Johnny, he figured.

A wry smile threatened to permeate his poker face as he finally brought the bow back to the strings. A harsh downward stroke began Beethoven's Symphony No. 5: Allegro con brio once more, filling the entirety of the room.

* * *

**SEVEN**  
_Defiled_

* * *

Johnny was truthfully dumbfounded. If the guy had been a musician, he'd certainly not expected him to be…good. He'd played the hell out of that first violin part and then some from that Beethoven piece. His CD was looking pretty lame about now. The violinist looked to the instrument happily, pleased with its sound. And to think he'd been planning on severing his fingers? Well, he was reconsidering that presently.

He made a point to leave before the musician had the chance to look up from his new plaything.

**…****zZzZzZz…**

He plopped onto the stained couch in front of the TV, snatching the remote from the other cushion to turn it on. Something was on about a used car dealership, leaving Johnny disinterested for the time being. He rubbed an eye with the heel of his hand to push back a tinge of weariness. He was simply _not _going to sleep, especially not with that _thing_ in his basement. Out of the question. Even though the creature – now demoted from its status as a person – was chained to the wall by its ankles securely, he was still uneasy. Could he even kill it? It did bleed, he mused.

Johnny sighed, awaiting the diarrhea commercial again. It usually came on this channel around this time… He planned on releasing a bored yawn, but was interrupted by a voice.

"You seem rather distracted," Eff stated. "What have you been up to recently?"

He shrugged, not really caring to waste any breath on the styrofoam figure.

"I bet you're having fun with that new one from that coffee place. He's resilient, isn't he? I could hear a violin from downstairs… I assume it was him?"

He wasn't sure what Eff was going at exactly, but he turned his gaze to the figure. "Yes, it was. What does it matter?"

"Well, you have been keeping him alive down there for some time, despite his usage of your hated word… Why, you even seem to care enough to supply him with an instrument to spend his time with. You seem to actually care for him, Nny," he stated, obviously in a mocking tone. His words seemed to be tainted with acid.

His fingernails sunk into an arm of the couch and the seat cushion. "Like hell I do! He's just another pile of shit like the others, only this one has a shred of talent and education! You know what they say, a rose by any other name-"

"Whatever. It doesn't matter, you know," Doughboy interrupted. "What does matter is that he bled all over the place when you brought him here. He must be hanging by a thread…" The thought seemed to please him.

A small _'hmph'_ came from Nny. "Yeah right. The fucker is still alive and well. He did a flawless rendition of some Beethoven a while ago, after all."

"Hmm, is that so…" Eff trailed. "Do you plan on killing him soon? I believe it would be for the best. His presence is most unsettling."

"Well, yes," he responded.

"Did you manage to put his blood to use? Surely his blood could've been of some use for the wall," Doughboy commented.

Johnny uncrossed his legs, resting his arms on them and leaning forward. He decided to let one arm down to trace a circle on the fabric of his pants. He was inwardly grateful that they distracted themselves from trying to toy with his mind. "It'll last the wall for a while… I got a couple bucketfuls and painted it earlier." He paused. "The wall…was a little weird for a second, though. A tremor ran through it, I think."

"There's something you're hiding, Nny. You should tell us; we want what's best for you," Eff insisted.

He scoffed. "That's bullshit."

"Which part?"

"All of the above." He absent mindedly reached for one of his knives.

"Don't listen to him!" D-Boy finally snapped. "The point is, what's up with your recent addition? He could be a threat to you, to us. He could make you feel if you continue being kind to him…"

Johnny frowned, looking to the shabby floor. "He won't. Though…I think he's a vampire, as dumb as it sounds. Honestly, he lost so much fucking blood, yet is still peachy. Well, after another guest in the room mysteriously was drained of his blood."

There was another pause, though it was far longer now. He almost wished that it meant the figures were done pestering him, but Eff spoke once more. His muscles were tense.

"Did you say…you used his blood on the wall, and the wall behaved…strangely?"

"Um. Yeah."

"Way to go, Johnny. Yet again you prove to the world at what a failure you are. I suggest you make another attempt at your life, 'cuz this time you have thoroughly fucked up. We're pretty much doomed, I'd say," Eff said passingly.

"You know you essentially put horribly tainted blood on the wall, don't you?" D-Boy inquired. "It probably poisoned the beast, causing it to become thoroughly irate."

Johnny's mouth was agape now. He had really, really soaked that wall with the fresh blood he'd acquired from Nicholas. He'd always carried the fear that he wouldn't be quite so diligent anymore and allow the beast to escape, but not now… A fear grew in the pit of his stomach, for he knew that even if there was to be another suicide attempt, that was all it would ever be: an attempt. Then the creature would escape.

"H-how-" he sputtered, cut off yet again.

"How do you prevent it?" D-Boy said. "To even try to reverse it would require a lot…and I mean a LOT of fresh blood. Even in your prime I don't know if you could get enough to satisfy it now."

Eff made a sound of annoyance. "Why don't you let him be? He's always wanted to die, hasn't he? This is as good of a time as ever, I say."

Before the two bickering figures even knew it, Johnny was out the door and into the starry night with the front door slamming behind him.

* * *

**EIGHT**  
_Concerto and Romance_

* * *

_**(Concerto in E major BMV 1042: Adagio, Bach)  
**__**(Violin Romance No. 2, Beethoven)**_

It wasn't until hours later that he returned. Johnny's breathing was labored and ragged, his clothes soaked to the bone with blood. He'd gone at once to various establishments that had sizeable amounts of people: the clubs, cafes, restaurants, you name it. He would carry or drag them home, bleed them dry, then paint the wall until his body ached. But it still fucking would tremor and shit every now and then! He was about to pull all of his hair out by the roots. Frustrated, he unknowingly started to storm to Nicholas's "room." Soft, languid violin music crept out from under the door.

He trudged into the now-putrid room. After all, there were now three dead bodies and one man on his way, his skin packed with salt. Nny scrunched his nose slightly at the smell; if that Nick character was bothered by it, he sure was doing a good job of masking it. He didn't even blink as the door slammed behind Johnny while he trudged over to the violinist. The tune was distinctly before Beethoven's time, he thought briefly.

"It's not nearly as aggressive as Beethoven…" Nicholas seemed to say softly to himself, still playing. "Bach seemed to write a bit of chill violin literature. Do you recognize it?" He seemed to care little of his captor's seething, or he didn't notice at all.

Nny's jaw clenched for several moments before finally relaxing. Yes, he did know the tune, in fact. He muttered, "Concerto in E major…some other stuff after that, I guess."

"Mhmm. BMV 1042: Adagio. I'm impressed." His voice still was rather breathy and distracted, focused more on his instrument. The notes were pure and delicate, like bits of silver.

Johnny shook his head suddenly. That damn violin had distracted him! "Ugh, stop playing that fucking concerto already. You've gotten us all into a shit heap of trouble!"

The bow was lifted from the strings, its holder blinking. "Huh? What are you talking about? I've been in here the entire time, so how could I have done anything?"

The silence of the room without the soft violin music almost startled Johnny, but he quickly shook the feeling off. He felt loathing creep up into him. His dark eyes smoldered. "Your blood was put onto the wall, and it's disturbed the thing on the other side…and it's been insatiable so far. That's not only bad news for me, but you as well. I didn't ever really intend on letting you go, but I'm sure you'd prefer to die at my hand over this thing."

Nicholas's eyebrows furrowed, letting the violin rest at his side. "What do you expect me to do about it, huh? I could say that I'm sorry, but _you _are the one that kidnapped _me_ and used _my_ blood to paint the wall in the first place. I rest my case."

Clenching his fists, Johnny spoke, "YOU USED THAT FUCKING WORD!"

He stared blankly before uttering a word. "…wow. Never in a million years had I thought that using the word "wacky" would mean in the end my demise."

Still seething, the other man tore a knife out of the body of one of the presently-rotting room occupants. He turned back to Nicholas, his hand almost shaking with the force he used to hold the knife in his hand. Nny took a single step forward, the other carefully setting the violin off to the side. He stalked over to the chained man; Nicholas made sure to watch his every move. A gloved hand made a move for his throat, but his freed hands allowed him to make Nny's efforts fruitless…until a deep pain scorched his belly. His breath hitched and he focused his gaze downward to find a deep gash across his stomach, staining the horrid brown polo he was wearing. He felt the color drain from his face again, body trembling.

"You talk too much," Johnny grumbled. The door slammed behind him.

**…****zZzZzZz…**

He'd been lying on the ground, curled-up in a little ball for quite some time now. Nicholas clenched his sharp teeth, waiting as the pain slowly subsided. He didn't dare move until his body healed itself. That in itself was a difficult task, as he didn't get much when he snacked on that one man. He'd lost even more fucking blood. The floor around him was pretty disgusting by now, he mused. He could feel congealed blood within his hair.

Shakily, he pushed himself onto his hands and into a sitting position. Sure, the wound was gone by now…but he still felt shitty. He was probably not as bad off as when he'd arrived in this place, wherever he was, but he certainly had his headache back as well. So, he finally concluded that his decision to stay chained up for this madman had been a bad one. He wouldn't learn much more, he was no longer amused, and he'd just continue to get weaker; he doubted another snack would come along very soon or often.

His now-thin hand reached down his shirt, finding the pick once more. With his unsteady hands he undid his ankle restraints, gaining freedom once more. Nicholas slowly stood and picked up the violin and bow, not thinking about his choice to do so until he found himself in the hall. A small, wry smile came upon his tired face. He felt a little hungry, indeed.

**…****zZzZzZ…**

A young woman groaned, waking from another restless sleep. Her whole body was numbed and filthy and her hair hung in her face. Dozens looked back to her with restless eyes, causing her to look back down to the ground. She could barely remember why this sicko had captured her and brought her here, wherever here was. He didn't come down much, but when he did… She shivered. The room was painfully silent-

A soft sound drifted from under one of the doors of the room. Every single wakeful and semi-aware occupant seemed to prick their ears at the unfamiliar occurrence. Their captor occasionally wore headphones, but this sound…it was resonant and pure. None, however, could shake their feeling of dread.

The door creaked open painfully. The girl drew in a silent breath, her eyes straining to see who or what would arrive. Now she and the others could hear the sound clearly; it was violin music. Some would recognize it as Beethoven's Violin Romance No. 2. But it was without question that every ear thought it was lovely. It would take several moments before they would even notice the bloodied man before him, but clearly not the one who brought them there.

A short moment later the man drew the bow away, setting the instrument to his side as he'd done before. He crossed his arms and gazed up at the countless eyes that were glued to him. He fought to lick his lips at the prospect of so much blood… He wondered if Johnny planned on using these to appease the supposed "wall"?

"Good evening, or whatever time of day it is. I don't know myself. In any case, it's definitely meal time." He paced over to the young girl, holding her chin up with a few fingers. "Do you care to go first?"

**…****zZzZzZz…**

Nny carefully strode down the stairs, his backpack filled completely with goodies to help him deal with some people he had stored away. They'd undoubtedly help him out, saving him many trips out of the house. Silence came out from the room where that damned vampire was chained up. Hopefully he wouldn't need to deal with him anymore. He tried to make the gash fatal, but with his luck…

It was quite the trek down those several flights of stairs, but something caused him to slow his pace as he neared his destination. He heard something. It was screams, or sobs, or moans... Carefully he continued on his way whilst also listening for the strange sound. Something was certainly _not _right.

His hand touched the door which he'd intended on going through the entire time. Yes, it was in this room from which the sound was coming. Pulling a jagged dagger from his pack, the swung the door open to face the countless inside.

There sat Nicholas on four or five dead bodies piled atop each other, playing his violin as though he were performing in a tea room. Around him many others were strewn about, torn from their bindings. They were all, however, intact for the most part. The only thing that seemed out of place were horribly deep bites on the necks or other parts of the body of each individual. Those left on the walls didn't dare stir, listening to the eerily lovely violin music with fear wracking their minds.

A short moment after Johnny's entrance, Nicholas concluded his little solo. He looked to the other man, amusement flickering in his eyes.

"Well, hello there. Glad to see that you decided to stop by. I'm sure you recognized my closing piece; another Beethoven, seeing as though you're fond of him." He crossed his legs and tilted his head to the side. "What? Haven't you anything to say?"

Nny simply stared at him in disbelief before even finding himself capable of thought again. "…How. Are. You. Not. Dead?"

Nicholas rolled his eyes. "You don't know how to kill me, nimrod. Anyway, I've decided to be kind and make you an offer… Oh, sorry about this, by the way. I was starving, no thanks to _you._" He pointed at him with his bow after gesturing to the corpses around him.

Johnny ran a hand through his hair. "Ngh... How the hell did you escape?"

He scrunched up his nose at the memory. "I'd rather not talk about it now. After the first time I started using a pick…"

Johnny's jaw dropped. "The _first_ time? You've gotten out _more than once?_"

"Yep."

Maybe it was worth listening to what he had to say…if not for just a little bit. "Fine. What could you possibly have to offer?"

He smiled, a bit giddy with such a large meal in his stomach. Nicholas hadn't been on a binge like this in ages… Anyway. "Glad to see you're interested! Well, I know that this wall of yours is something to be concerned about. I'm offering you my services as an accomplice in gathering more blood. Seeing as though I'm well fed now, I can certainly be of use to you. A way to correct my…wrongs? Any maybe I can high-tail this place afterwards, if you wouldn't mind…"

Johnny swallowed. Did he really want some undead thing hanging around him? Shit, he had no idea how strong this vampire-thing was, nor was he entirely certain how he'd go about killing it… Well, he could always find out through trial and error. That made him feel just slightly more at ease.

"By the way, what time is it?" Nicholas piped.

Johnny strained to remember. "I remember seeing the sun set not too long ago…"

"Perfect."

* * *

**NINE**  
_Why So Serious?_

* * *

_**(Harder to Breathe, Maroon 5)**_

He tried to remember what Nailbunny had said before he'd left the house last. Something about being sure to not tear out Nick's intestines or something… He'd made a point to ignore Eff and D-Boy as he strolled back out into the night with the snooty vampire. They just jeered at him and taunted him the whole time; Nicholas was oblivious. He breathed a silent sigh of relief, readjusting the straps on his backpack.

"Let's get something straight," Nny suddenly spoke, halting in front of Nicholas before they even reached the sidewalk. His voice was a bit low. "I don't like you, to put it mildly. I have no clue what will happen once we calm down the wall and everything's all fine and dandy…but I will not be taking any of your shit."

Nicholas bit his bottom lip, attempting not to smile. "Oh, yeah. Most definitely. You're the boss."

Nny simply turned back around, taking a left to a car that was parked in his driveway. Nicholas blinked, as he just kind of assumed they'd be on foot. Oh well.

"So boss," he began, having fun with the name, "exactly where are we headed to first? Or do you know?"

Nny hopped into the driver's seat and put the key into the ignition, seeming to ignore him. He took his spot in the shotgun position, placing his pack on his lap. Before they'd left the house, Johnny that tossed him a bag and told him to put whatever he needed for the night in there. The only things in the bag he'd bothered to stuff in there were a large knife like the one Johnny brandished, a hooded trench coat, as well as a dead baby. You never know when you'll need one of those, after all. Oh, his violin was in his case as well. He brought that thing along, too.

Once the dinosaur of a car had managed to get up and running down the street, Nicholas went at once to crank his window open. It was no longer the Fourth, and the skies were clear and starry. He stuck his head out, very much like a dog, inhaling the scent of nighttime happily. Lovely.

**…****zZzZzZz…**

Of all places, they were at a bowling alley. The car ride had been quite uncomfortable; at least, for Johnny it had been. Every now and then the vampire would just stare at him, causing him to squirm slightly and cause him to try to focus more on the road. He wanted to tear that stupid grin from his face, but then again…he was now as healthy as can be. Wordlessly he put the car in park and took out the keys, exiting the car hastily.

How would he go about killing this thing later? Johnny racked his brain for vampire trivia. Well, he'd never seen him out in the sun. He had not tried a stake yet, that was for certain. Uh…garlic? That seemed pretty lame, along with crosses, but still. It would be hours until daylight, though he had plenty of sharp objects on his person. He was torn from his musings when they finally entered the establishment.

A couple of families occupied the lanes with bumpers, along with a few college and high school groups. Employees sat bored at the rental shoes and snack stand; they hadn't even noticed them come in, he noted. He set down his backpack on one of the near-by chairs and began to rummage inside, quickly finding what he needed. Turning he noticed that Nicholas already had stealthily blockaded the doors. He smiled inwardly at futile attempts to escape, those bulging, terror-filled eyes…

Nicholas was at his side at almost an instant, starting the thinner man. The asshole was of course amused.

"Divide and conquer?" he spoke, going through his own things.

"That's the idea. I'll start with the employees. Be sure to make it quick, 'cause we-" Nny was cut off.

"Don't have much time. Yeah, I know."

He glared at him for just one moment longer, muttering, "You think everything's just a joke, don't you?"

Instantly Nicholas's eyes seemed to flash with the sort of happiness when you're dying to tell a wonderful joke. He pursed his lips together, but seconds later he finally gave in. In a hushed tone he said, voice seeming to mimic someone else's, "Why…so serious?"

He felt immeasurable rage begin to fill his entire being because of that smug, jovial bastard. It took every ounce of effort for him to tear himself away from the smiling fool, walking over to one of the abandoned chairs with knife in hand. Still, no one noticed; he sighed. They were too focused on eating greasy, sub-par pizza and watching large balls slowly lumber down the lanes with rapt attention. Clearing his throat, he began to speak loudly to address the entire bowling alley.

"Greetings, evening bowlers!" Most everyone looked to him confusedly, not quite seeing his knife. "I regret to inform you that this evening you will not be returning home, despite your strikes, turkeys, and other nonsensical achievements. In fact, I hadn't yet been ridiculed, so I tip my hat to you all, if I did indeed have one! However, the majority of you are so vapid as it is…and I may have not been deemed worthy of being noticed at all? Ultimately, you actions, or lack thereof, are of no consequence. I did not come here to partake in your games, I regret to inform you, or to eat the slop from the concessions that you call "food." Rather, I came to take from you something that is rather near and dear to your hearts? Let's say that none of you could live without it. Sorry. You will be assisted in this transfer by myself or this fellow beside me."

Nicholas wiggled his fingers while waving at some people that appeared very, very, very uneasy. They were gaping like fish. He winked at a terrified little girl with pigtails, causing her to flinch.

Nonchalantly Johnny hopped down from the grimy chair and strolled over to the shoe attendant. In seconds his blade streaked across the employee's exposed throat.

"YOUR UNSANITARY FOOTWEAR GAVE ME ATHLETE'S FOOT ONCE!" he shrieked.

Not wishing for any snacks after his prior meal, Nicholas went to work with his own knife after Johnny made his first move. By this time, most everyone in the place was in a state of shock, but he could simply taste impending pandemonium. His gaze locked back onto the little girl once more, causing her to become frozen in place. Her mother was clutching the girl's hand tightly.

Once close to the child, he stooped down to her level and said most sternly, "At your age, you shouldn't be up this late, you know." The girl could barely utter a gasp of fear before she found the knife resting within her forehead. Humming, he drew it out and treated her mother to the same. Quick and easy.

He glanced back over to Johnny's unspoken half of the place. People were certainly vocal and on the move by this point, causing the two killers to become quite excited. There he was, off at lane 7, gutting a sun-burnt college guy. He wasn't one for that kind of theatrics himself. No longer caring for the sight, he effortlessly snapped the neck of a passerby clad in one of those band shirts. Funny, it seemed to be his size, too. It did seem as though he was still wearing his bloody, horrendous work polo… He made quick work of changing into the t-shirt before making his way to the middle-aged group. Way to go and use those Depends, he mused.

So for the next fifteen minutes or so, screams of incredible magnitude emanated from the bowling alley. But of course, no one noticed. A typical night in the city.

**…****zZzZzZz…**

It had been quite a task gathering up all that blood and transporting it back to the teeny house in which Nny lived. Speedily he took his thick, wide paintbrush and spread the gooey liquid all across the entirety of the surface. The thing moaned and groaned deeply, tremors shaking it periodically. By the time Nny's "paint" was all used up, the wall's activity had barely lessened in intensity. He stared in silent horror for an entire minute.

The emaciated man turned back to the stairs and began back up, leaving Nicholas to trail behind. With this insatiable wall and his constant pestering of Johnny, he was undoubtedly doubly on edge. He smiled to himself as he formed his own little secret agenda.

**…****zZzZzZz…**

Johnny had stopped at the closest business to his house when they had gotten back on the road. It was one of those little neighborhood bars with a small parking lot and a number of regulars. With all the silence that Nicholas had been subjected to during these trips, he found that he was incredibly startled when he heard Johnny's voice penetrate the air.

"Exactly how old are you?" He closed his car door before crossing his arms.

Nicholas blinked, finding the question odd. "Uh...24."

Narrowing his eyes, he spat, "Liar. You guys are almost always ancient, aren't you? Besides, you're resilient…"

Nicholas felt himself let out a chuckle. This was rich. "Pshh. I've only been a "vampire" for a mere two years or so. Basically pretty soon after graduating from college. I'm a young punk. Has that really been bugging you?"

Johnny frowned, then started off toward the entrance of the small bar. Nicholas made no effort to hurry after him now. Seconds after the guy had entered, he heard screams of terror. So he'd started without him, huh? Ouch. He made his way in seconds after the commotion.

People were already missing appendages, pinned to walls through their flesh, and stabbed repeatedly. The air was now thick with the scent of this smaller-scale massacre. There were probably barely a dozen occupants, minus the two newest ones. Quietly Nicholas hopped over the bar counter and to the plethora of booze. He picked out a couple bottles of the more expensive stuff and slipped it into his things but not without opening a simple beer bottle to have while watching the show.

Moments later the screams finally ceased, leaving a panting Johnny. Nicholas clapped, earning him another look. He just rolled his eyes, which probably wasn't very wise of a choice either. He then sauntered over to the jukebox in the corner and set it to the first song that tickled his fancy. Some Maroon 5 started up shortly after. Nicholas returned to his previous perch.

"Cool beans, boss. Anyway, I can tell this wall deal is getting to you. Care for a drink? I suggest the Bud, myself." He showed his own drained bottle as proof.

Disgust was clearly shown on his face. "Ugh, no. That stuff is vile. I refuse to drink it."

"Whatever. It'll take the edge off of your evening, for certain." He leaned over to grab another, hopping back over the counter to the other side. Nicholas opened the bottle on the counter's edge and held it out to the other man. "C'mon. One won't hurt you at all. You claim to be invincible, or so I've heard."

What the…? Had he mentioned that to him at all? He shook the thought off. The chilled beverage was inches from his chest and you could even see the coolness rise up from it into the air. True, he had never been quite so stressed out in his entire life (or rather, the past couple of years). The drink was taunting him, offering to numb him, make him feel less… He swallowed, his hand moving hesitantly toward it.

Rather pleased, Nicholas pushed it into Nny's unsure hand. Throwing all caution to the wind, the thinner man quickly poured some of the liquid down this throat, almost wanting to gag at the fiery sensation. It tasted like gasoline! Being incredibly underweight and without food in his tummy, it wasn't long before the more pleasurable effects of the alcohol began to set in. He took another drink more gratefully and found there was little left.

"Whoah, slow down there, boss. Being a first timer and your body type, I wouldn't suggest any more after this. In fact, since you were kind enough to do all of the work here while I was a spectator, I'll go ahead and gather up the blood. You just sit here," he pushed him down into one of the unoccupied booths, "and I'll get to it."

Johnny looked to the man, a little bewildered. For one, he dared to lay a hand on him… He shivered in repulsion. Now he was being ordered around. Once he finished the beer off, however, he didn't care much anymore.

Moments later, he was drug out of the bar and into the parking lot from whence they came. He wobbled just slightly. "What the fuck do you think you're doing, putting your grimy hands on me!"

"Excuuuse me. You weren't paying attention when I told you that I had finished, so I led you out. Sheesh. It's not as if I tried to make a move on the first date or something."

"You're hopeless."

"That hurt."

"Good. Now get your ass in the car so I can go apply another coat. We don't have much time to burn, bloodsucker."

* * *

**TEN**  
_Blue Strings_

* * *

_**(Träumerei, Schuman)**_  
_**(Nocturne for piano and violin No. 2 in E flat major, Chopin)**_

The ride back to the small house had been an interesting one this time. Nicholas hadn't calculated the singular bottle's effects on Nny's body, but it now showed in his driving. They had barely avoided collisions with two cars, three pedestrians, a dog, and an ice cream truck. What the hell was that thing doing out this late, anyway? It mattered little since the house was now in sight. Nicholas was ready to kiss the ground upon arrival as well as thank whatever deities came to mind first.

Nny nearly stumbled out of the driver's seat after parking. He steadied himself on the door, swallowing a bit. Note to self: no more beer. He absolutely hated the slight haze it put him in, pulling him just slightly from reality but enough to make him anxious. Grimacing, he grabbed a couple containers of blood from the bar they'd visited, Nicholas doing the same. The task of painting resumed. The size of such a canvas was making him ache. The little shit just sat in the corner on the other side of the room, playing away at that new toy of his.

Nny bent down, feeling his vertebrae in his back make popping noises. He paid a little attention to whatever the vampire was playing, as he'd finished the supply they'd brought back. Sounded Schuman-like, but he couldn't put his finger on it… It was fairly slow and tranquil, he mused. Suddenly, the soft music stopped. Nny turned to look to the other man in confusion.

"Hey boss, I have an idea for our next location." He stood, brushing himself off with one hand while the other held the string instrument. "How's about the movies? That alien flick just came out recently, and people have been swarming to the theaters. Sounds pretty opportune to me. In fact, I dunno why I hadn't thought of it earlier, since I'd planned on seeing the film myself…"

"Get in the car."

**…****zZzZzZz…**

Nicholas fished out his wallet as he bought tickets at the booth in front of the theater. Johnny remained at the car, gathering his things. He had just barely enough to cover the two of them; tickets were pricey nowadays. Moreover, why hadn't dear Johnny taken his cash while he was conked out? Well, this was no place for logic. He shifted his weight from foot to foot as he waited for the other man's arrival.

Scarcely a few minutes later the two men were inside. Nny's eyes were never still on the path before him, but covered the entire inside of the theater manically. Nicholas just yawned, seeming not to care as much. He wasn't one for food, but that insanely salty, buttery popcorn was sounding good right about now. Maybe he'd get some for free later; he smiled at the thought. Surely Johnny would want one of their Brainfreezies?

Instead of entering their showing of the sci-fi film, Nny crept into one of the showings that had begun an hour earlier. Everyone sat in rapt attention, popcorns long devoured and drinks sucked dry. The climatic ending was at hand and they focused on nothing else. Convenient.

Nicholas pouted and whispered, "Fuck. I was really hoping that I wouldn't have to see the end of this. Now I won't be able to see it later."

Nny's grip tightened on the handle of a knife from his pack. His eye twitched as one of the alien creatures on screen let out an inhuman shriek. He growled lowly, "Make yourself useful."

He sighed, eyes roaming around for a particular door. Sure enough, he was able to spot it in the inky darkness; it was the entryway to the projector room. Creeping stealthily he was able to avoid catching anyone's attention, quickly slipping inside. Nicholas knew that he'd have to be quick, however, as he speculated that Nny would soon be at work once more. A dozen or so stairs later he found himself in the presence of a pudgy man doing Sudoku while reels of film went through a monstrous machine. He remained unnoticed until he cleared his throat.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" he said angrily, setting the Sudoku book down on his chair. "This place is for employees only, y'know! If you don't get out now-"

"Oh, you'll report me to your manager?" Nicholas smirked. "Why I'm shaking in my boots. I'm just here to ask you a favor, is all. Turn off the projector and I'll leave in peace. Sound good?"

"It's strictly forbidden for me to pause a movie simply on a customer's whim, as it would not be-"

Nicholas's smile dropped, his knife now out of his pack. "Sir, I could honestly not give a shit. Now, do we see eye to eye or no? It matters little to me either way. Just be quick about it."

The employee now went silent, his large eyes resting on the knife the pale man held. Now that he thought about it, there seemed to be stains on the person's clothes that were quite peculiar… This was the last time he'd agree to taking the night shift. Wordlessly he pointed to a set of controls, his hand trembling dreadfully.

"Ah, glad you see it my way," he muttered. His eyes quickly studied the many buttons, knobs, and what have you. "Now, which ones will turn off the movie and the lights?"

"Wh-why do you want to turn off the lights as well?" he stuttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Nicholas turned around, leaning on the control panel mabob. He sort of pointed the knife lazily at the man, chiding him, "Now, now, now. Are we really in a position to argue? I would like an answer."

**…****zZzZzZz…**

Johnny tapped his foot impatiently. He sat next to some currently dead female movie-goers, their throats dripping with blood. In the midst of a nerve-wracking scene where an alien attacked one of the main characters, he simply seized the opportunity. It kind of troubled him at how unobservant people could be. He kicked his legs up on the empty seat in front of him. It was then that he felt the back of his seat move. Snickers came from behind him. Fuming silently, he decided they would be the next, whoever they were. The armrests felt sticky with something, maybe soda. Ick.

His skeletal, long fingers rapped on said sticky armrest. What was the hold-up? Seconds later the screen simply went blank, causing sounds of annoyance and confusion to bubble from the audience. This was only magnified when every last source of light went out, save the stupid fire exits. Satisfied, finally, he stood up and continued with his task. He could barely see his nose, but he kept outstretched a hand, soon capturing soft, long hair.

It was an older woman. She yelped in pain as she was yanked in his direction. Deftly he plunged the knife into her lower abdomen and pulled it up, gutting her as if she were a goat. Her screams brought panic, exciting the rest of the people in the large room. Nny made his way out of the now-empty row of seats, as most everyone fled to the aisles to get to the doors. The sticky juice from the woman's innards made the bottom of his boots sticky.

He soon came upon one of the railings in the middle of the stairs to the upper levels of seats. His outstretched hand found a person hanging on the metal object for dear life, too frightened to make their way in the darkness. Quickly he removed his gloves to better feel textures, despite his repulsion towards the now inevitable skin-on-skin contact. He wouldn't know if he was touching skin or fabric otherwise. He clenched a soft jacket now, the person before him gasping in surprise. The knife went through the air and hit its target, and multiple times. Johnny wondered what the person's face would look like when the lights were on… Ah, how all this excitement made him feel alive.

Some poor soul brushed past him; the knife would bury itself within their flesh an instant later. Meanwhile, Nny's ears perked slightly at a sound. Glass, and a good amount of it, shattered behind him, followed by a thump/crunch. Yep, that person was dead. A horrible scream came from that general direction shortly afterward. So Nicholas had finally joined in on the fun. A head was to roll down the short little steps. Nny cursed as he nearly tripped over the damned thing in the dark.

Nicholas licked his fingers, rather refreshed. Too bad for the harried mob, they'd secured the doors… He could see quite clearly all the goings on. Truth be told, he was a nocturnal creature and all. It was as if it were merely daylight for him. It didn't take long for his currently enormous pupils to find the other man, who grasped around him desperately for another victim. His feet shuffled along the carpet, not wishing to trip over anything or anyone. There were those curled up on the ground, he noted.

Now was as good of a time as ever.

Nicholas's feet barely seemed to brush across the ground as he descended the bloodied stairs. He grinned in delight. Oh, this was simply too good. While the mass-murderer groped around fruitlessly in his blindness, he was able to stalk him effortlessly like a stealthy tiger. The knife was set down to his right, his eyes almost glimmering in the dark.

He had no clue where he was now, Johnny concluded. Sure, he could normally get his eyes to adjust to dark, but this place was almost devoid of any kind of light at this point! He growled deep in his throat, now thoroughly peeved. Even though his others senses took a firm hold now, the screams and pleas seemed to drown out all sounds. He felt like a fool.

Especially went he found himself being pushed into one of those cushioned theater chairs. This was not just another clueless attendee. He tried to make his body stand, but whatever it was kept him firmly in place. His blood ran cold; he had absolutely no control. His knife hand was now empty, it probably having fallen in his surprise.

"What…what the fuck?" he uttered. "Who the hell are you?"

He felt icy breath in his ear, causing his whole body to tingle. Nny's heart began beating faster as nervousness began to set in. He was helpless. He made another attempt to wriggle free, but to no avail.

"Oh, stop it, will you?" a husky voice whispered into his ear. No, it couldn't be… "All this time, you thought that _you_ were the puppet master. A silly notion, I say."

Fuck. It was him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? _Get off of me!_" he snapped, as if he could back it up.

Nicholas laughed in his throat, humored at the feisty man below him. He carefully moved his face, his eyes staring deeply into Nny's. The man flinched, aware of the closeness as soon as he felt the cold breath on his chin. He almost felt sick.

It was then that an icy, slimy thing trailed its way up his neck. Nny squirmed, realizing the strange appendage was the vampire's wet tongue. Nicholas licked his lips in satisfaction, releasing a pleased sound.

"I can just _taste _your fear, Nny. Quite delicious. Wonder why you're immobile?" He buried his nose into the other man's dark black hair and inhaled the scent, committing it to memory. He could feel him squirm some more. "Two reasons, actually. Firstly, being a vampire, we have the uncanny ability to render our meals very submissive, despite their physical or mental capabilities. But, secondly…deep down you know that I am perhaps one of your greatest fears. You live to kill, but me…I'm already dead. I would say that's problematic."

Nny tried desperately to filter out all his filth, numbing himself to the touches he was subjected to. But with each new one, fear rattled him to his core and his body burned. His legs were very much like jelly and totally useless. Damn, he could barely even move his neck. All he could do at the moment was brace himself and try not to think.

"My, my. You're pretty quiet now, huh?" Nicholas drew away. "In the end, I do plan on killing you. Then again, I'm sure you've wanted the same for me, correct? Eh, it doesn't matter. I prefer to play with my food before I eat it, I might add."

The shit was going to try to take his life? Before he could even ponder what sort of play Nicholas was hinting at, he felt something icy cold on his mouth. His whole body was paralyzed at that very moment. That icy tongue made its way into his mouth, Nny trapped in a revolting kiss with the vampire. His own, warm tongue, perhaps the only controllable muscle in his body, did its best to push the intruder out. Nicholas only seemed to see this as a challenge, only delving deeper and toying with the weak human tongue. Nny's heart began to beat louder and louder in his ears and he was certain his eardrums would rupture. It was an eternity before the man drew away, retreating from Nny's mouth.

Nny's breathing was ragged, chest heaving. Now he really felt like he was going to be sick. Never before had anyone been as audacious as to, to…_violate_ him, completely disregarding his personal space.

Nicholas sighed. "Still yummy, if not more so then." He nipped at his ear, whispering there again. "Let's play tag, shall we? I'll be "it", 'kay? See you soon," he purred lowly. Then, as if he vanished into thin air…he was gone.

Johnny just sat there limply in the chair before he could feel his limbs again. His head was dizzy and muddled but his heart hadn't slowed down, not one bit. The mindless, stinking hordes of humanity pounding at the doors meant little to him know. He shakily pushed himself back onto his feet and fled from the theater, feeling as though he was being watched the entire time.

**…****zZzZzZz…**

He had driven frantically home, as if the devil were on his heels. Nny practically leapt out of the car, sprinting through the front door. He set every single lock it had to offer before descending into the basement, hoping desperately that the horrible creature hadn't made its way back before he had. It would've had to been insanely fast, seeing as though he hadn't gone under 70 miles per hour once, even through the neighborhood.

The stairs groaned under his weight as he bolted downward. Blessed silence was the only other sound to accompany the groan of the wood beneath him. He passed through store rooms he rarely visited, cobwebs collecting in the corners. Skeletons lounged about with rotten corpses, left out for months. He paid them no mind.

He wanted to get to the absolute bottom, he concluded. Johnny had not once ever had the determination or desire to do so before, but now… Now he felt as though it was all he could do. He was certain as though the strength that Nicholas had used on him would be only a fraction of what he had, and…and he was certain he had been hiding other attributes as well. Fuck, he should've killed him when he had the chance and the bastard was in shackles!

He threw himself through yet another rusty door and was faced with three possible doors directly afterward. Middle, left, and right. Not wishing to debate the left or right theory, he went through the middle one, slamming it behind him. He weakly leaned against it, now realizing his fatigue. How long had he been going through the subterranean levels? He felt sweat run down from his scalp, but it felt so cold down here… Nny shivered.

His heartbeat slowed, if somewhat. Every nerve was still alive and on full alert, though. His weary eyes scanned the perimeter. No one in sight. He slid down the door, his back against it, and sat upon the floor. His legs were pulled to his chest. Nny hated that he was running; he felt like a fucking coward. But when he thought back to the movie theater… A shudder ran through his body, muscles tense.

He focused on the rhythmic sound in his chest, breathing in deeply. Damn, even when at rest he could never get it below 80 beats per minute. He listened to it carefully, determining that it was well over the 80 he'd expected. Rather than being at adagio like a healthy person, he was forever stuck at andante. Nny sighed, running his fingers through his hair. Suddenly his ears picked up on something far-off, something far below adagio. His mouth became dry as if it was stuffed with cotton.

Shakily, he stood and walked toward the sound, in a trance.

**…****zZzZzZz…**

Nicholas swayed with his violin, holding it like a lover. A sweet, delicate nocturne poured forth. He could remember the rapt attention of the audience, the utter silence as he began to play for hundreds in the university's concert hall. He was in complete control of every single one of them at that moment, years ago. And so was he now, but with a much small audience. He grinned wickedly, his bow continuing its dreamy dance on the strings along with his deft fingers.

The door creaked open behind him. Ah, so there he was! Gradually Nicholas turned to face the newcomer, his delicate notes attempting to ensnare him. Nny had taken a hesitant step backward but found himself frozen once more. His eyes became far-off.

A shame that Nny had come towards the end of the piece, Nicholas thought to himself. He carefully set the violin down in the middle of the room, taking steps toward the stiff man. One of his arms wrapped around the painfully thin waist that belonged to Nny.

"So you found me. Bravo!" His eyes shined with something sinister. "You're it now, I guess. How dreadful… I think our games are at their end."

Nny's fingers twitched, but Nicholas paid them no mind. The vampire nipped at his collar bone, drawing only but a few drops of blood. He lapped them up greedily, nuzzling the side of the other man's face.

"Hmm, I hate to break it to you, but I'm not all that attracted to you at all," Nicholas murmured. "It's entertaining and all, yes… However, I find it much more delightful to fuck with people's minds for a little while, as you may have been able to tell. I made you feel things you usually never feel, things you absolutely hate with every fiber of your being. Afterward, you were unable to function as you normally do. At this point you are hook, line, and sinker under my control. All in a day's work."

He trailed a finger along Nny's clenched jaw. "I might miss you a bit. You're terribly clever, despite your rare lucidity. We could've been good friends, maybe."

Nny laboriously opened his mouth, inhaling a breath to speak. His words were slow, but deliberate. "You…are…not…in…control…of me."

A frown came across Nicholas's face. Before he could formulate his own witty retaliation, he found himself being pushed back. He stumbled but only slightly. The vampire whipped around to face his prey which had somehow released itself from his grasp. It was most unsettling and inconvenient.

Nny had stumbled over to the middle of the room, his long fingers snatching up the resting violin. His eyes were wild with a raging fire, fueled by his immeasurable anger. Then, in a swift downward stroke, he smashed the damned wooden thing against the hard, cold floor. The neck broke off in an instant, remaining in Johnny's hands. It was jagged and showed the lighter wood under the glossy finish.

Nicholas huffed in annoyance. "You're doing nothing to make this better for you. Since my belly is quite satisfied, I was going to let you down easy. But now… Ugh, that was totally uncalled for."

"Fuck you!" Nny spat. "If you want me so badly, then come and get me."

The other man smiled, clearly liking the proposition. Slowly he waltzed over to the perturbed fellow, his eyes locked with Johnny's dark ones. He gleefully found that they were slowly glazing over once more, his muscles releasing their tension slowly but surely. Victory was his for the taking.

Once intimately close to the raven-haired maniac, he took a firm hold on his torso and gently titled his head to the side. There it was, that lovely throbbing artery. A shame it would all go to waste.

In an instant he was torn from his thoughts. He felt something wet on his shirt and it began spreading quickly. Confused, he looked downward to his chest. There he saw the neck of the violin protrude from his chest, covered in blood. Only then did he feel the full extent of his wound, his body crumpling to the ground. A horrid screech came from his gaping, fanged mouth as he clutched the profusely bleeding hole in his chest. This time, the blood would not cease to flow. His pale eyes looked frantically to Johnny.

"Let me indulge you with a few passing thoughts I had as _I_ was dying." Johnny stared stonily at the writhing beast below him, which had ceased to look very human. "Sometimes…you can cry until there is nothing wet in you. You can scream and curse to where your throat rebels and ruptures. You can pray all you want, to whatever god you think will listen. And still, it makes no difference. It goes on, with no sign as to when it might release you. And you know that if ever did relent…it would not be because it _cared._"

A gurgle of blood was issued from Nicholas's rotting mouth. A few swift stabs into the frontal lobe were all it took to make him still.


End file.
